Jonathan's eyes darkened as his brows pushed low and firm to the edge of his eyes. He stood there, quietly surveying the mess that had become of Baytorn—the collapsed buildings, the ash in the air, the battered ground beneath his boots. The so-called backup from headquarters—three Taskforce squads—stood scattered and confused, barely enough to clear even one quadrant of the ruined city, much less reclaim it entirely.
He exhaled slowly, deeply, his hands clenched at his sides.
There was no way the team in front of him could clear the whole area before nightfall. And if they didn't… Baytorn would be locked in. A restricted zone. Officially declared under Alphacrest military control. That meant defeat—not just for the city, but for everything he believed in.
That meant surrendering another piece of Dreamway to the same twisted authority he'd vowed to wipe off the map.